


Echoes of Summer

by CSIGurlie07



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Established SuperCorp, F/F, Poisoning, mentions of child abuse, mostly some headcanons that took shape as a plot, non Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSIGurlie07/pseuds/CSIGurlie07
Summary: When Lena is eight years old, she spends the summer with her aunt. When Lillian Luthor visits, she makes some unpleasant discoveries. [Warnings for child abuse & poisoning]





	1. Chapter 1

Lillian knows something is wrong the moment she finds Lena asleep in the library. The girl is situated on the bench of the bay window, as she often is, but the book splayed open in her lap lays forgotten, her head tilted back against the wall in sleep.

Lena doesn't nap.

It is the one thing she and Lillian seem to share: their sleep patterns are sparse, whereas Lionel and Lex would layabout for hours if they had half a chance. To the untrained eye, Lena is a girl in the throes of a summer haze, but Lillian notes her sallow skin, the deep bruises under her eyes, and the sharp angles to her face and shoulders. She's lost weight since she’s come to stay with her Aunt Lucille.

She looks nothing like herself, and thereby nothing like her mother. _That_ is Lillian's second clue that Lena is unwell.

"Lena."

The call of her name does nothing to rouse her. Lillian crosses the room, and places her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Lena."

Lena stirs, but it's not until Lillian is forced to give her shoulder a shake that her eyes flutter open. Lena bolts upright when she recognizes the figure standing over her.

"Mother?"

The girl hastily scrubs the sleep from her lashes. Then her gaze turns upwards, hooded with guilt for having been caught sleeping. Bright eyes cloud with exhaustion, and in one Lillian spots the vivid stain of a burst blood vessel.

Throughout her close study, Lillian keeps her features carefully neutral. Eventually, Lena looks away, staring nervously at the book now gripped tightly in her fingers.

"I didn't know you were coming," Lena murmurs.

"Nonsense. I notified your Aunt Lucille weeks ago." Thin shoulders lift almost imperceptibly, defensive against the scold. Lillian ignores it. "Dinner is nearly ready. Clean yourself up and meet us in the dining room."

"Yes, mother."

* * *

When Lena joins them at the dinner table, her posture is uncharacteristically stiff. Her back is ramrod straight, without any trace of the slouch Lillian has frequently scolded her for. Lillian watches as Lena stares at her soup, silent until Lucille glares at her from over the rim of her wine glass.

"Not good enough for you, girl?"

Lucille is in fact Lionel’s cousin, older by ten years but looks twice that. Her fingers fuss with the silverware without a cigarette between them, and decades of chain smoking seems to have permeated every inch of her, from the ash blonde of her hair to the graying pallor of her skin.

The gravel in her snarl grates sharply, and makes Lena squirm in her seat. Lillian catches the movement with a sharp eye. Lena isn't prone to fidgeting, Lillian has made sure of that. Her back is straight but her shoulders bow forwards as though trying to curl in on herself.

"I spoke to you, girl!"

"I'm not very hungry."

Lillian sets her wineglass aside. "Don't be rude, Lena. Eat your dinner."

Lena's lips twitch, pulling down at the corners. Her hand reaches for her spoon, with all the solemn pomp of a man climbing the gallows.

While they eat, Lillian and Lucille speak of everything and nothing of importance. Lillian watches Lena silently sip her soup from the corner of her eye. She finishes her meal as instructed, but it takes her nearly half an hour. She then sits and listens as expected while Lillian and Lucille continue to exchange pleasantries.

Within minutes, Lillian sees Lena's discomfort. The fidgeting increases, and a hand presses to her belly.

"May I please be excused?" Lena blurts. Her eyes remain glued to the table, glistening with tears. Lillian pauses, watching as Lena's shoulders rock forwards in a way that doesn't appear to be voluntary. When she nods, Lena exits the room at a walk, but with enough urgency for Lillian to know something is wrong.

"I tell you Lillian that girl has been an ungrateful wretch from the moment she walked in the door!" Lucille started in immediately. "Absolutely appalling! I don't know how you deal with her--"

"Excuse me." Lillian tosses her napkin aside and rises to follow Lena's path out of the dining room and up the stairs. As she nears the room assigned to Lena, she hears the pitiful sound of retching still yards away.

She finds Lena in the bathroom, heaving over the basin of the toilet. Scooping Lena's long hair out of the way, Lillian takes in the sight of tears pouring down flushed cheeks and the pink tinge of the water in the bowl. Rage sparks deep in Lillian's chest as the water gets darker with every lurch, even after Lena's stomach is empty. Lena sobs between spasms, sniffling pitifully.

"I'm sorry," she whimpers, fingers tightly gripping the edge of the toilet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

"How long has this been happening?"

Lena heaves again before she can answer, but the split second of fear that freezes her features is all the confirmation Lillian needs. She rises. "Stay here."

When she storms out of the bedroom Lucille is waiting in the corridor, smoking once more and looking all to pleased with herself. Lillian’s attention narrows on the smug woman, who is completely unaware of her sudden danger.

"What did you give her?"

Lillian's tone dares her to deny it, but Lucille doesn't bother. "The first thing I pulled off the shelf in the gardener’s shed. It’s better than the little whorespawn deserves--"

The fire burning beneath Lillian's ribs flares white-hot. Her open palm cracks Lucille across the cheek, slamming the woman against the banister and knocking the cigarette from her lips.

Lucille has remarked on Lillian's height on multiple occasions, and Lillian now uses every inch to her advantage as she steps in close, pressing Lucille against the rail without lifting another finger. Lucille stares at Lillian, fear bright in her eyes.

"You dare poison a member of this family,” Lillian growls, voice low and menacing.

“That girl is NOT--”

“Be quiet!” she snaps. “That girl is more a Luthor than you have ever been.”

Lillian rakes her eyes over Lucille’s bony frame, noting the whitened knuckles gripping the bannister and the bob of her throat as she gulps. Lillian leans closer in, taking pleasure in the way Lucille recoils.

“You have been in the country too long if you think this will go unanswered.”

Catching sight of a maid hovering nervously at the top of the stairs, Lillian turns her back on Lucille. “You. Bring me half a cup of activated charcoal, dissolved in a glass of water. Now.”

The maid dips into a curtsy and bolts. Lillian gives Lucille one last cold stare. "Fetch our coats, and summon the car. My daughter and I are leaving."

"To do what? Call the police?"

Lillian pauses, lips curving into a cold smile. "We don't involve the police with matters of family, Lucille. But rest assured Lionel will hear of this."

As an old woman who’s spent her long years in the lap of luxury, there is little Lucille fears. But the mention of her cousin’s name sends her lurching for the stairs, suddenly as eager to appease Lillian as the maid. Lillian returns to the bathroom, where the heaving has stopped and Lena leans back against the sink cabinet, one arm curled around her stomach and the other pressing a towel to her mouth. The sink runs, an attempt to clean herself interrupted by muscle fatigue and tremors.

Lillian reaches for her, only for Lena to lunge towards the toilet again, vomiting nothing but air. This time, the retching grips her for long, long minutes until Lena sags once more, gasping for breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she whimpers, and Lillian shushes her, stroking her hair as the maid bustles in with the charcoal solution. Lillian accepts it with a nod.

"Lean back," she instructs, when the spasms take another respite. Lena obeys, resting against Lillian’s chest, sobbing. She puts the glass to the girl's lips. "Drink."

Lena does her best, but splutters when the solution hits her tongue. "Mama, no..."

"Do as I say, sweetheart. It will help until we get you to the hospital. Quickly now."

Lena tries again, this time swallowing large mouthfuls between sobs. When the glass is empty, Lillian sets it aside, rubbing comforting circles against Lena's back. "That's it... you're going to be all right."

"The car has arrived, ma'am."

The maid stands anxiously at the door to the bedroom. Lillian bundles Lena into her arms and rises. Lucille loiters in the foyer, anxious of the repercussions but too prideful to grovel.

The driver takes them quickly to the nearest hospital, where the emergency room tries to separate Lena from Lillian. Lena sobs quietly, small and pale on the gurney. "I'm a medical doctor," Lillian informs them coolly. "She is my daughter. I won't be going anywhere."

She only steps out briefly when the evening's attending doctor arrives. He looks barely older than Lex, but doesn't protest her presence.

"I have reason to believe she's ingested pesticide," Lillian informs him. "Composition unknown. I treated her with an activated charcoal solution at the house, but she may have already had prolonged exposure."

"Vomiting?"

"Profusely. Blood was present."

The doctor nods. "Thank you. Any information helps. We'll take good care of her."

* * *

Hours later, Lena sleeps with an IV in her hand and a blanket pulled over her chest. The retching has stopped, and the fledgling attending affirms that her daughter is out of immediate danger.  As the hospital ward starts to fall quiet as the night stretches on, Lillian steps out to make calls. First to Lionel, then their private doctor. Lionel’s goes straight to voicemail, though she bitterly anticipates that his return call will come within seconds of him hearing that Lena has been admitted.

When she returns Lena has curled on her side. It takes a long moment for Lillian to realize the girl is crying quietly. When she takes up her seat beside the bed, Lena furtively scrubs her cheeks.

"Has the medicine helped?" Lillian asks, to which Lena nods. "Then why are you crying?"

"I-- I thought you'd gone."

Her lips tremble, and wide, bloodshot eyes glisten with tears. Lillian settles back in her seat, crossing her legs at the knee.

"Don't be silly. I'm right here." Those green eyes continue to watch her, blinking slower and slower as the nausea continues to abate, and her body relaxes. Still, they continue to blink open, stubborn against sleep. They remain fixed on Lillian, and Lillian finds she can’t discern the uncanny depth of the thoughts at work behind them.

"Rest now.” Lillian takes up a magazine, and starts to flip through it to escape the girl’s gaze. “When you wake tomorrow, we'll go home."


	2. Chapter 2

Lena loved Kara.

She did.

But she didn't love Kara's penchant for fixating on an otherwise innocuous detail and digging out the reason for its existence.

_"But **why** don't you like orange juice?" _

"Does there have to be a reason for me not liking orange juice?" Lena turned the bacon in the pan, avoiding eye contact in the hope Kara would just drop it. "Plenty of people don't like orange juice."

"Yeah, but usually you go for the natural vitamins, so it’s a little weird..."

"You mean it’s only weird that _I_ don't like orange juice. For other people it’s totally fine?"

"Well, yes, no... I guess. I mean, it's just you like oranges in salads, like those little wedges? So to not like orange juice..."

Lena sighed in irritation. "For the record, oranges may come in my salad, but I don't necessarily eat them. Citrus upsets my stomach."

"But I tried getting the low-acid, no-pulp kind and you still didn’t--"

 _"Kara."_ Lena’s patience ran out with a snap. Kara fell suddenly silent. "Drop it. Please."

Kara stared at her plate, still swimming in leftover syrup from her devoured pancakes. "Okay."

Lena fished out the finished bacon, and turned off the stove. "I'm going to go take a shower." Anything to get away from the eyes glued to her back and the weight of unspoken secrets.

By the time she re-emerged, the apartment was empty. She found a note on the kitchen table.

_Supergirl needed. Sorry._

The relief of having dodged round two was tainted by the knowledge she'd hurt Kara's feelings. Lena went to work with a heavy heart, and trudged through her day, lingering long after business hours for legitimate reasons but with an enthusiasm fueled by avoidance tactics.

In the end, it only made it easier for Kara to find her. She entered through the door, as a dejected Kara Danvers tightly gripping the strap of her purse, visibly uncomfortable.

"Hey," Kara said softly. She lingered in the doorway until Lena tilted her chin in invitation.

"Hey."

Kara drifted closer, stopping just shy of the visitor chairs. "I'm sorry," she started, setting her glasses higher on her nose, "about this morning."

Lena nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I shouldn't have pushed. I just... the reason I pushed is because sometimes when I offer you orange juice, you pause. Just a little bit. So when you decline it’s like you're denying yourself. And not liking it seemed like an excuse. I didn't want you to feel like you couldn't have what you want. But I was wrong to push, to try and trick you into admitting anything. I should have just asked you, but I didn’t know how to do that without feeling like I was accusing you. I'm sorry. "

Kara exhaled, her speech finished. Lena didn't say anything for a long moment, collecting her thoughts.

"Would you have dropped it if I refused to answer?"

Kara blinked. "What?"

"You're right that I don't appreciate games like the one you pulled this morning. But if you had asked outright, and I chose not to answer, would you have respected that?"

"Yes, of course..."

"Because you didn't this morning." Lena held Kara's gaze, trying not to let irritation color her regard. "You asked, I gave an answer, and you didn't like what I gave you, so you kept pushing."

"Lena, I..."

"I'm allowed to have things I keep to myself. I'm trying to be better about opening up with you, but I don't want to feel guilted into it."

Kara blinked at her, heat coloring her cheeks. Lena held her gaze, undaunted, until Kara looked away.

“Of course,” she muttered, nodding jerkily. Only then did Lena let her own gaze drop, focusing on the pen she twisted between her fingers.

“The truth is,” Lena admitted, her voice low, “when I was seven, or eight, I spent a summer with an aunt, and while I was with her I had severe stomach pain. Nausea, vomiting, for almost three months-- I ended up being hospitalized for it. When I returned home I recovered relatively quickly, but ever since I’ve been prone to ulcers. That’s why I’m careful about what I eat and drink.”

Kara stared at her, shock and horror twisting her features. “You-- you never said anything.”

Lena shrugged. “You already tease me enough about my eating habits, and I didn’t want that expression added to the rotation.” She gestured with her pen to where pity shadowed Kara’s gaze. In an instant, guilt mingled with the pity, but Kara didn’t look away.

“Look,” Lena continued, “it’s not a big deal, but I didn’t really feel like discussing it. So next time…”

“Next time, I’ll just ask,” Kara promised. “And I’ll accept whatever answer you give me.”

With a sigh, Lena felt the knot in her chest finally ease. “Thank you.”

Silence filled the room. Kara watched her, as though waiting for her to say something. Then, finally, she hitched her purse higher on her shoulder. “I should get going,” she said quietly. She studied Lena with soft eyes. “I’ll see you at home?”

Lena nodded. Kara lingered a moment longer before turning towards the door. Lena finally turned her attention back to her work, though through the fog in her brain she could barely remember what the report in from of her was for.

“Lena?”

Lena glanced to where Kara paused with her hand on door knob. “Yes?”

“Did they ever find out?” Lena stared at her in confusion. Kara swiftly elaborated. “Did they find out what you had that made you so sick?”

Lena paused, a familiar vise locking around her throat. She debated feigning ignorance, giving a simple shrug that wouldn’t require speaking. But she’d come this far… the damage was done, in more ways than one. Kara knowing wouldn’t change anything. She took a breath.

“Garden-variety pesticide.”

Kara’s features twisted in confusion, then darkened with anger when the pieces clicked together. Lena snapped her jaw shut. When Kara next spoke, rage simmered beneath the words, promising what was in store for Aunt Lucille the moment Kara ever laid eyes on her.

“And where is your aunt now?”

“The family plot at Falling Oaks Cemetery,” Lena replied succinctly. “She passed shortly after I returned home that fall. She was rather frail.”

Lena said nothing of how Lillian hadn’t mentioned the poison at all. Her mother had simply told her it had been a bug that had gone untreated. She didn’t say anything of how she’d accepted those facts as the truth until she took a psychology class her freshman year of college, and read about Munchausen’s by proxy-- how it had sparked a memory of that summer, and had prompted her to look into her own medical files. There she’d seen the official diagnosis, read “pesticide poisoning”, and realized the truth.

Munchausen’s hadn’t fit her experience-- Lena hadn’t been paraded around for sympathy; she’d simply suffered. She mentioned nothing of how she’d spent weeks wondering if Lucille’s fatal fall down the stairs had been as accidental as reported. The only thing missing about the whole ordeal was the _why_ \--

“Hey.”

Lena jerked, surprised by Kara’s sudden appearance next to her. Her hand settled on Lena’s wrist, steadying her. “Where did you go?”

Blinking, Lena turned her hand over, clasping Kara’s palm. “I just-- I never knew why, but… she must have known. About me. About my father’s affair with my birth mother.”

Tears burned at Lena’s eyes. She’d been only eight years old. She hadn’t known anything about her real family, and her aunt-- a true aunt by blood-- had sought to punish her for it. She’d been alone in that mausoleum of a house, for months, with no one to protect her.

Lena drew a sharp breath as another memory floated to the surface, of bright lights and warm arms around her.

“My mother was the one who came to collect me. She was early-- she still had weeks left to her lecture series, but she stopped to visit on her way back to Trinity. She took me to the hospital, and stayed with me the entire night.”

_Don’t be silly. I’m right here._

“She’d never held me so gently.”

The smell of hospital-grade antiseptic filled Lena’s nose, and she heard the faint beeping of a heart monitor, dredged from the pit of her memory.

_I’m right here._

It wasn’t until Kara pulled her into a hug that Lena realized her tears had spilled over and down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, and let the smell of chocolate and sunshine wash over her, warming her from the inside out.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Kara murmured. “I love you. I love you so, so much.”

Lena clenched her eyes shut, spilling another round of tears down her cheeks, and clutched Kara closer. The freshly awoken memory clawed at her, as though saying-- _Lillian did love you_. In her own way, as she said.

It should pale in comparison to the betrayals that marked their relationship since, but… it didn’t. Not completely. Not for the girl she’d been in that hospital bed.

“Hey,” Kara murmured, drawing back. Ducking her chin, Lena sniffled and scrubbed at her cheeks with the heel of one hand. When she looked up, she found that Kara’s pity had given way to gentle comfort. Fingers stroked her hair, tucking it behind her ear before trailing along the edge of her cheek.

“Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a headcanon I tried to post to tumblr, but then at around 2k words I realized it was more than a simple headcanon, so here is an actual half-story thing for it. It's just a quick and dirty to get it off my hard drive before I jump into my next multi-chap.


End file.
